Not A Laughing Matter
by frazthealien
Summary: A cracky Arthur/Merlin comedy, in which Merlin gives Arthur a love potion but his best-laid plans go awry. Wacky hijinks ensue.


Not A Laughing Matter – A cracky Arthur/Merlin comedy, in which Merlin gives Arthur a love potion but his best-laid plans go awry. Wacky hijinks ensue.  
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, Uther  
Warnings: Heavy crack, liberal use of author's notes in the middle of the action, irrelevant quotations, one instance of list format, plot contrivances, inspired by bad fanfic and the Torchwood novel _Almost Perfect_.  
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and never will be.  
Spoilers: None really. Set during or after series 1.

**Ten Reasons Merlin decided to make Arthur fall madly in love with him (in no particular order):**

1. Because he needed to practise his magic!  
2. Arthur might have been an arrogant prat, but he was _Merlin's_ arrogant prat.  
3. It would certainly calm down the gossip about Merlin and Gwen.  
4. Arthur wasn't short of money and Merlin needed a new tunic.  
5. Because Merlin soon learned that whenever Arthur said "Do you have _any_ natural talents, Merlin?" or "You really are the most idiotic manservant I could possibly ask for", what he really meant was "I'm troubled by how attractive I find you." He just needed some help to admit it.  
6. So that the author can waste her time writing a ridiculous story about it. Maybe, in the style of the Timewaster Letters, she can send it to the BBC requesting 90.65% of the profits from its sale.  
7. It would screw with the Dragon's head. Destiny? I'll show you _destiny_.  
8. Have you seen those shoulders? Woof.  
9. Because Merlin's chainmail fetish was worse than Christopher Paolini's leather fetish.  
10. Um… in the interests of audience participation, think of one yourself.

**1.**

Merlin sighed like a twelve-year-old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert as he left Arthur's chamber. He was completely entranced by the young prince's manly yet tender demeanour. His hair was so soft and blond, his eyes were such a beautiful cerulean blue (probably… both he and the author have trouble remembering) and his skin so flawlessly perfect (Merlin hated perfect skin that wasn't flawless); he would, in short, give Edward Cullen a run for his money. He didn't sparkle, though. Merlin wandered down the castle's twisty-turny corridors wondering if there was a spell to make Arthur sparkle. Maybe he could just creep up behind him with some glitter.

There was also the problem that Arthur was a man. [Author's note: I can't be assed to do research about punishment for homosexuality in fictional magical medieval kingdoms, so I'll assume it's bad, okay? Right.] Merlin had lain on his bed many nights and cried many, many single tears, for he had lost both his hope that he and Arthur could be together and all semblance of character.

He had always suspected that Arthur had feelings for him but dared not express them. Merlin had racked and almost wracked his brains trying to think of a way to persuade him to do so. Eventually he had decided on a plan and today he was going to put it into action.

Merlin consulted his magic book, carefully combining the ingredients in a small cauldron (because all the mixing bowls had disappeared or something). He waved his hand theatrically and muttered a few words in a non-specified language, then carefully laced some chocolates he'd bought with the magical liquid. [A/N: Yes, I know they didn't have chocolate then but they also didn't have potatoes or tomatoes, so there.]

He brought the chocolates to Arthur along with some hand-picked flowers.

"From an admirer, sire."

"An admirer?" Arthur seemed unimpressed.

"Yes sire."

"Well," mused Arthur, "I am handsome. And dashing."

"Very dashing" agreed Merlin. Arthur nodded, grabbing the chocolates from him.

"The flowers, sire?" Merlin waved them in what he hoped was a tantalising manner.

"What use do I have for flowers? At least I can eat chocolate. You keep them, Merlin."

Merlin was so upset at the rejection of his flowers that he didn't speak to Arthur for the rest of the day (this overrode his desire to see if the potion had worked because… well because the plot requires it).

-o-

At this point, the author would like to insert some lyrics in order to enhance the poignancy of Arthur's predicament (not to mention up the word count):

_I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt_

_So sexy it hurts._

…

_I'm too sexy for your party, too sexy for your party;_

_No way I'm disco-dancing._

The author is very sympathetic towards Arthur's emotional state and would like to think that maybe, in our own way, we're all so sexy it hurts.

-o-

The next morning Merlin knocked on Arthur's door, neatly washed and clothed, with his hair carefully combed in front of his ears lest they distract anyone from the story. There was no answer, so he knocked harder.

"Sire, are you in there? It's Merlin."

"Don't come in!" Arthur shouted, but he clearly hadn't heard of reverse psychology (it was the Middle Ages, give him a break!) because he was very surprised when Merlin came in anyway.

Merlin was even more surprised (which is unsurprising given the circumstances about to be revealed, which to be honest even the author is surprised to find herself writing about). In front of him, in Arthur's nightclothes, with a severely pouty expression, stood the most beautiful woman Merlin had ever seen except maybe for a few others, including the lady Morgana but he wasn't about to tell Arthur that.

"What the hell is going on?" asked the woman.

"I'm sorry," Merlin stammered. "I'm Arthur's manservant. I'll… I'll just go now." He made for the door, blushing bright red. The potion must have made Arthur fall in love with someone else! He couldn't believe he'd just walked in like that…

"Wait! Merlin!" The woman caught his arm. "Come back here, you imbecile!"

Merlin turned around. He recognised her tone, her words, her touch, her perfume…

"Arthur?"

The woman shrugged sadly. "I just woke up like this."

At this point, Merlin did what any reasonable person would have done in his position and promptly fell about laughing. [A/N: Obviously, Merlin didn't literally fall over because no one actually falls over laughing and when they say ROFL they're lying because if you've lost motor function to the extent that you're literally lying on the ground, you're hardly going to be able to type, now, are you? What frauds! And don't get me started on people who say LMAO.]

"It's not funny!" protested Arthur, though such a statement is generally easier to prove when you're the same gender as you were yesterday. "What the hell is going on?" he repeated, because the author is unimaginative.

"Um, I…" Merlin struggled not to laugh. "I…have no idea… princess!" He giggled like a monkey on acid. [A/N: I don't know if monkeys can giggle or use acid or whatever but I thought it was a really lovely image so I thought I would use it anyway.]

"Merlin! Stop laughing or I'll have your guts for garters!" Arthur looked a lot less threatening than he usually did; though his body was still strong and muscular, he was shorter than before and his blond hair now reached past his shoulders (because the potion was acutely aware of cultural differences in hairstyles during that period of history). He pouted in Merlin's general direction.

Merlin managed to stop giggling. "With all due respect, sire, that's a bit disgusting." He was of course referring to the garter comment, not to the pouting, which, love struck as he was, he found oddly alluring.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Look, it seems someone has cast a spell on me. We have to find some way to reverse this."

Merlin nodded. "I can tell everyone that you're ill; that'll buy us some time."

"Very well. But… the tournament! It's this afternoon! I can't tell people I'm ill or they'll think it's just an excuse!"

"Oh," said Merlin. "Drat."

**2.**

At this point, the author would like to quote from near the end of Plato's _Republic_ in order to appear intellectual and make it look as if she actually read past the first few chapters without being bored out of her mind.

"_Conversely, you will find, if you work out the cube, that the measure of difference between the two is that the philosopher king lives seven hundred and twenty-nine times more happily than the tyrant."_

Yes, 729 exactly. The author does not wish to jump to conclusions, but finds it evident that a) Plato was on crack b) she should swiftly move on with the story before she finds large objects hurled at her for wasting people's time and that c) in our own way, we all think that actually Socrates and his habit of questioning everything while not generally providing any kind of practical solution were the epitome of "pretty useless" and it's no wonder he was forced to kill himself.

-o-

Merlin left Arthur in his room and headed over to Morgana's chambers. They'd decided that before anything else they needed to find Arthur some clothes. Gwen answered his knock.

"Um, hello," said Merlin. "I need to borrow a dress."

Gwen gave him a very funny look.

"No, I… it's not for me, it's for Arthur."

Gwen raised her eyebrows.

Merlin, as is evident, hadn't really planned what he was going to say. "I… he…"

Morgana came up behind Gwen. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Well," said Gwen, "apparently Arthur is in need of a dress."

"A dress?" Morgana gave him a similar strange look, as if the request were absurd; Merlin supposed in the normal course of events it probably would be.

"Yes, my lady" he mumbled, now rather wishing he could be absolutely anywhere else. [A/N: Obviously I am using hyperbole here, because Merlin doesn't really want to be found, say, sniffing Arthur's laundry, because that would raise even more awkward questions. And that was only the one time, he swears! ]

"What on earth does he want it for?" asked Morgana. Seeing that an answer was not forthcoming, she said "Well, if he wants a dress he can come here himself and explain why."

Merlin started to panic. Surely Arthur wouldn't mind if Gwen and Morgana knew? "Um, I think you need to see this for yourselves."

-o-

"He just woke up like this, he says."

Upon realising that it was Arthur who stood in front of them, Gwen and Morgana did what any reasonable people in their situation would have done; they looked at each other bemusedly for a moment before pelting Arthur with a series of inane questions.

"So you woke up like this?" asked Gwen.

"Yes."

"Your hair's longer. Is it thicker as well?" asked Morgana.

"I used volumising shampoo. [A/N: Did they even have shampoo?] Anyway, the problem is…"

"Can you read a map just as well as before?" asked Gwen.

"Are you the Crown Princess now?" asked Morgana, sniggering.

"How's your peripheral vision?" asked Gwen. [A/N: Did you know women have far wider peripheral vision than men? True story.]

"How are you finding the whole going to the bathroom issue?" asked Merlin, both because he felt left out and because he was very curious.

"Enough!" proclaimed Arthur. "I thought we decided you weren't going to tell anyone?"

Merlin shrugged. "They would probably have figured it out eventually."

"Well, do they have any bright ideas about what we should do? The tournament's in under five hours!"

"What we need to do first is get you some clothes," said Morgana. She left to find Arthur a dress.

"Make sure it's a pretty one!" said Gwen. She turned to Arthur. "Don't worry, we'll work something out."

"I'll be back," said Merlin, and dashed out before either of them could ask where he was going.

Gwen tried to look anywhere but at Arthur. "So..."

"...yeah" replied Arthur.

-o-

Merlin was in his room, flipping through the magic book to find out what had gone wrong. Maybe the pages had been stuck together... that was the last time he painted his nails while reading. [A/N: I decided to adapt some of my personal experiences to this story, you know, to really sympathise with the characters, and I think it's working well.]

He looked carefully at the page entitled "Love Potion" (the author, of the book and of this story, was/is unimaginative). He was sure he'd mixed the ingredients right... but wait a second. He'd said the incantation all wrong!

_Wrasomif frig thar_! Not _wrasomif thig far_! How could he have been so stupid?

He searched frantically through the book for a reversal spell. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything that would help. Maybe he should try turning Arthur into a frog and then back into a human; there was a very slight possibility that would work. Or he could just turn Arthur into a frog and leave him like that, because then being female would be the least of his… her worries.

-o-

Merlin walked slowly and sadly back to Arthur's room. He couldn't think of a way to reverse the potion's effects and he couldn't even tell Arthur that he had been responsible, as no one could know about his magic. Gwen and Morgana were waiting outside for Arthur to get changed.

"Well?" Morgana called through the wall.

"Did you have to pick one with so many ruffles?"

"Does it fit?" she asked.

"Yes, it fits well enough." They came back in to see Arthur posing flamboyantly in a deep purple, admittedly overly-frilly dress. "But it looks ridiculous."

"Well, if you'd rather go around naked, be my guest," said Morgana.

"Don't give him ideas," said Merlin, though secretly of course he was rather thrilled at the suggestion. "I have a plan though, for the tournament business. Well, you know, when Arthur fights he's wearing full armour anyway, so if someone else were to fight for him then no one would know!"

"But no one else can fight as well as I can!" said Arthur. "That's never going to work. I'll just have to change into my armour and make sure no one sees my face."

"Don't be silly," said the others. "You can't fight like _that_."

And that, oh my brothers, is how Arthur learnt that gender equality was a necessary feature of modern(ish) society, which his future kingdom could not properly flourish without. From this day forward he would never judge an individual by their gender, but by the true nature of their heart.

Character development, check.

**3.**

Hundreds if not tens of people had gathered together for the tournament, all expecting to see Prince Arthur the Generally Quite Valiant (better than Ethelred the Unready, so he'd never complained) triumph again.

As his turn approached, they grew nervous with anticipation, much like the readers of this story probably are.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Arthur was having an identity crisis.

"I mean really, Merlin, what's life _for_ if you can't hunt or fight or stride purposefully about the place? Tell me, what would you do? I can't let Sir Owain fight in my place!" [A/N: Yeah, on the show they killed off a Sir Owain, and also Pellinore, Tristan and Bedevere. What's up with that? I don't get it, so it didn't happen.]

"Sire, I don't-"

"I mean, of course, I could become a damsel-in-distress, but it's a risky business, and who wants to spend their whole life being rescued?"

Merlin had a smart answer for that one but didn't voice it, being quite fond of his head. "Sire, be patient. I'm sure if there's a way to make you a woman then there's a way to turn you ba- Where are you going?"

"No one ever accused me of being patient!" Arthur called over as he strode as purposefully as he could manage onto the pitch. [A/N: Tournaments have pitches, right? Oh frak it, who cares?]

The crowd gasped. Simultaneously. Arthur pointed at Sir Owain. "That, my good people, is not Prince Arthur!"

The crowd gasped again, because they were in fact a pantomime crowd. King Uther stood, in an ominous fashion, but not that ominous because we all know that on the inside he's a cuddly librarian.

"Remove your helmet!" Uther demanded and at his command Sir Owain did so. The crowd booed and hissed and in the excitement one man even shouted "He's behind you!" because he'd got ahead of himself.

"Owain?" Uther addressed him ferociously. "Why, pray, are you impersonating my son?"

"Father!" Arthur shouted. "I am your son! I have fallen foul of dark magic!" [A/N: Btw, at very dramatic moments all characters start speaking all olde-worldy, just because. Also, the fact that my word processor will recognise "btw" as a word but not "Bedevere" is, I believe, a poignant illustration of all that is wrong with the world today.]

Uther did what any reasonable person in his situation would have done, and ordered the guards to take away this lunatic.

Morgana grabbed his arm. "No, sire, he tells the truth! I swear upon my life!"

"That is your son, sire!" Gwen chimed in, for she had few original thoughts so generally only backed up what other people said.

"Do not be so preposterous!" exclaimed the king in a deep and (some would say) booming voice. "What sort of fool is it you take me for?"

Merlin (which, nearly every single time, the author types Melrin at first) joined in their protest. Eventually, Uther waved off the guards, though he remained disbelieving.

"Tell me, young wench, how are you to prove that you are my son? Surely no child of mine could attire themselves so… ostentatiously," he said, peering disdainfully at the heavily ruffled dress Arthur still wore.

"It's not my fault Morgana has no taste!" Arthur whined. "All she does every day is sit around trying to look pretty; you'd have thought she'd be good at it by now!"

"Oh, stop being so childish, Arthur!" snapped Morgana.

"How could you even _consider_ buying this? It looks like a giant plum that's been ravaged by wolves! Honestly, Morgana-"

"Enough!" bellowed Uther. He turned to the crowd and spoke gravely. "I regret to inform you all that the woman you see before is indeed Prince Arthur. Clearly the darkest magic has befallen him."

"Oh no it hasn't!" replied the crowd in unison.

-o-

The author would like now to include a few more lyrics to help show her personal feelings at this point in the story.

_Oh, so hold on to the ones who really care,  
In the end they'll be the only ones there.  
When you get old and start losing your hair,  
Can you tell me who will still care?  
Can you tell me who will still care? Oh care._

The author would like to think that, in our own way, we all secretly love this song.

_In an mmmbop they're gone._

Quite.

**4.**

So, to recap, Merlin's a fool in love, Arthur's a woman and Uther's accepted the fact, sort of, while the author was babbling about Hanson, Morgana's pretty and fortunately not as vapid as most fictional heroines (though Arthur is the real heroine in this story) and Gwen hasn't really done anything useful or important to the plot and probably won't for the rest of the story so get over it.

Now, to make things more exciting, it's a bit of a choose-your-own-adventure story. Imagine you're Arthur. Merlin offers to go out into the wide world to find you a cure. Do you say yes or no to him?

-Yes, let him go! I was sick of the sight of him anyway. – go to the part entitled "yes"

-No, I want him to stay! Who else can I call a ragingly incompetent buffoon at regular intervals? – go to the part entitled "no"

-I can't decide! – oh, heck, read them both

-I really don't care about you or your poor excuse for a story – now, that's just not constructive, is it? Or true, considering how far you've read already.

-Come on, get on with it! – yes, get on with it!

**No**

"You ragingly incompetent buffoon!" Arthur glared at Merlin. "I'll sort this out myself!"

The two of them were tackling a difficult case of illicit magic, carrying out a raid on a suspected warlock's home. Arthur was creeping forward to investigate, instructing Merlin to wait for him outside rather than crashing around like a drunken elephant.

"Don't you think money-laundering is quite a serious charge?" Merlin had asked earlier. "He seems harmless."

"Do not be deceived by appearances, Merlin," Arthur had replied, feeling wise. "Who knows how many coins this man has produced from behind people's ears?"

Who indeed. So now Merlin was standing by the door, wondering just how much mead it would take to get an elephant drunk and diligently keeping his promise to watch Arthur's back (and what a fine back it was).

Arthur had been a woman for four days now, but from the amount of complaining he had done it felt like fifty. He was certainly not taking it like a man. But he had ordered Merlin to stay at the castle rather than go out searching for a cure, which fanned the flames of Merlin's flicker of hope. [A/N: See what I did with the alliteration there? And I wasn't even trying.]

Arthur looked around him. Everything seemed to be in order here; no potions, or magic wands, or suspect staffs lying around. Yes, everything was normal. He made to enter the next room, but then – WHOOSH! BANG! WALLOP! OUCHIES!

Merlin was disturbed from him impromptu reverie involving Arthur and a… well, let's not go into that… when he heard an almighty crash from the house. Forgetting Arthur's instructions and throwing caution to the wind, he dashed inside.

"Well, thank you _very_ much," thought the wind, wishing that one day someone would throw something nicer in its direction, like maybe some caviar or a pot plant.

"Arthur! Are you alright? What happened?" The young prince was lying on the floor, having slipped on a conveniently-placed plot device. Smashed glass lay in shards around him.

"I don't know," he said, looking up at Merlin pathetically. "I tripped and fell over. A potion fell on me."

"A potion _fell on you_?"

"Mm-hm. I found it difficult to believe too, but stranger things have happened. Sometimes it's better just to accept these things and move on."

The author thinks it is best to follow Arthur's advice. He is a prince(ss) after all.

-o-

The next morning, Merlin was disturbed from his slumber by an insistent rapping on the door.

"What is it? Arthur, if it's you-"

"Merlin, it's me."

Melrin (seriously, I keep typing that first) was socked (I think I should leave that) to hear Arthur's manly tones once again. He sat bolt upright. "Arthur?" he said.

"Yes, Merlin, in a bizarre twist of fate that potion turned me back into a man with no side-effects!"

Merlin hurried to open the door and gaze upon his beloved's true form once more.

"Wow. It's like…"

"Magic?" Arthur cocked his eyebrow suggestively and Merlin's knees turned to blancmange (not jelly, because that hadn't been invented yet).

"Yes," breathed Merlin. "It is… entrancing." He lost himself in Arthur's probably deep-blue eyes.

Arthur stared back. "Completely bewitching"

They continued with the magic metaphor until the author got bored. Then they made out. A lot.

And they all lived happily ever after.

**Yes**

Arthur gently strummed his lyre while gazing out of the window. It was such a lovely spring morning; he wished he had someone to share it with. Gwen had come that morning to do his hair – and what a beautiful job she had done. His blond locks flowed down his chest like a river of spun gold. [A/N: Is it possible to spin gold? Well, obviously if you're Rumplestiltskin, but I meant, you know, otherwise.]

But Gwen was little consolation when his heart ached for someone long gone, a young man with no brains or common sense but a certain exuberant charm about him. Arthur even found himself missing Merlin's untimely entrances. He longed for his manservant to barge in at an inconvenient moment. Then Arthur would call him an idiot, Melrin (damn it!) would smile at him fondly before sweeping him off his feet and they would live happily ever after.

Morgana was around, of course, but she was even more annoying than people who constantly say "Cheer up, it may never happen!", forcing you to reply "It already has, you dimwit!". She had been kind about sharing clothes and so on, though, and had helped him improve considerably on his needlepoint. He could certainly find it within himself to put up with her.

Merlin had been gone for a few weeks now, desperately searching for a way to reverse the potion's effects. But alas, alack, eheu and lack-a-day, he had not yet returned. It was only now that Merlin had been gone for so long that Arthur's true feelings were becoming apparent.

Arthur sighed heavily and set down his lyre. He stood and looked in the mirror. He had got used to this body now; he would be prepared to stay like this permanently if only Merlin would come home. It helped that he was beautiful, of course, but that did not undermine his willingness to do anything for his young manservant. He headed down for dinner, feeling dejected and lonely.

-o-

The next day, Arthur was sat embroidering when the door suddenly opened. To his great surprise (but probably not to the reader's) it was Merlin, grinning broadly at him.

"Merlin!" Arthur's jaw would have dropped had he not had better motor control. "Don't you ever knock?" he asked, trying to mask his joy at seeing him.

"What fun would that be?" said Merlin. He continued to smile like a madman. "I found a cure, Arthur! A way to turn you back!"

Arthur went quiet and concentrated on the floor.

"Arthur? Aren't you glad?"

"Merlin, come sit down here." Melrin (argh!) did so.

"Merlin, I think I've got used to being a woman" said Arthur. Merlin's eyebrows shot up like a… shooty-uppy thing. "I just don't see the appeal in hunting and fighting any more. I don't understand why everyone's so excited about all this unnecessary violence when they could be sewing, or singing, or picking a new dress or swooning at a handsome knight. I've realised that I enjoy being a woman much more. I hope that you can support me in this decision."

Merlin didn't know what to say.

"I realise this may come as a surprise to you. I'm sorry you wasted so much time when… when we could have been together." He gave Merlin a small, hopeful smile. "I've missed you."

Merlin smiled back. "I've missed you too, sire."

"Please, Merlin - my lady."

"I've missed you too, my lady. But now you are as you are I suppose you no longer wish for a manservant."

"Maybe not." Arthur took his hand and gazed at him tenderly. "But I do wish for a man."

And they all lived happily ever after.

**THE END!**


End file.
